


Eyelash Wishes and Toothpaste Kisses

by Kellylikesbands



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, Brencer, Established Relationship, M/M, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4311042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellylikesbands/pseuds/Kellylikesbands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon feels really lucky to have Spencer in his life. </p>
<p>"Brendon leans into Spencer's taller frame, initiating sleepy caresses and forehead touching, things he never tires of and suspects he never will."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyelash Wishes and Toothpaste Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite positive when this takes place, but basically anywhere before Spencer's departure from the band works. In fact, post-departure works too, as Brendon could simply be home from tour visiting his boyfriend. Whatever floats your boat. :)

Spencer is asleep. He has been for what seems like a very long time now, slumbering through the early hours of the morning when he usually comes around and promptly heads downstairs to prepare a pot of coffee. Brendon doesn't mind. He would, if it were anyone else, taking it upon himself to prod them relentlessly, and even go so far as to actually roll them out of the bed and onto the cold hardwoods below, but--well, it's Spencer. Brendon doesn't care if Spencer sleeps all day, so long as the two of them are close, and they certainly are that. Their legs are still intertwined from the night before and there's so little space between Brendon's face and Spencer's that he can feel each and every delicate breath the younger boy exhales (apart from the spatial limitations of the couple's shared queen-size mattress, this is due to the fact that Brendon really likes to marvel at his boyfriend's features and he figures the closer, the better). 

As quiet as possible, Brendon studies all aspects of Spencer's face, from the curvature of his Cupid's bow to the light sprinkling of freckles on his forehead, barely visible in the soft yellow light that filters in through the window, lacing Spencer's brown locks together with threads of amber and casting dark shadows under his eyelashes. They are long, Brendon thinks. He's always thought that, and he's right. Spencer's eyelashes are very long, freakishly so. But Brendon likes them. A lot. He likes the way they frame Spencer's magnificent blue eyes--Oh God, those eyes, Brendon thinks, and for a moment considers waking his boyfriend for the sole purpose of looking into them. He likes the way they stick together when wet, like they did that one summer when the band rented a lake house and dove eagerly off the half-sunken dock into the cool water below. Brendon hadn't noticed until later that evening when he and his bandmates had been sitting lakeside as the waves lapped against the shore rhythmically and the darkening sky had draped everything in a hue of lavender. It was then that he'd glanced over his shoulder at Spencer, who was drying his hair with the towel that had previously been around his waist. The two had locked gazes for a moment and even from where he sat, feet away, Brendon had been able to see in clarity the way Spencer's eyelashes were clumped together. Brendon had thought it silly that such a thing could've induced a rapid heartbeat and butterflies in his stomach, but that didn't change the fact that it had. 

At this moment, Brendon thinks himself capable of counting Spencer's eyelashes. 

Now, as Brendon carefully props himself up on an elbow and admires the younger of the two, he recalls the time when he kept his feelings hidden away like the details of a government-classified case, for fear of them being unrequited. He thinks back to lanky limbs and outdated haircuts, things that Spencer wore impossibly well, especially in contrast to the rest of the band. Spencer, Brendon thinks, looks good all the time, regardless of his choice of dress or how his hair is styled or the way his facial hair has grown in. This has become perfectly evident to Brendon over the years as himself and his bandmates (Spencer included) have explored a plethora of wild looks. From snakeskin suits to collared paisley shirts and clashing vests, Panic! has picked through what seems to be the world's vastest wardrobe with eager fingers, testing countless aesthetics, and although some styles of clothing have proved slightly more flattering than the others, Spencer's undeniable good looks have remained unscathed. 

Spencer is not too far off from where he was years ago, in terms of appearance. His facial structure has morphed over time, but not so considerably that you can't still pick out the cherub-esque face of teenaged Spencer. Shoulders have broadened and scrawny arms have filled out, but most people would still think Spencer to have been a somewhat gangly adolescent. 

Another physical feature that has remained over the years is one that Spencer has never been particularly fond of: his tummy. Brendon is more than unable to wrap his head around the insecurity surrounding Spencer's stomach. Sure, Brendon is a pretty toned guy, with a strapping build and a mostly flat belly. But Brendon loves Spencer's tummy. It's soft and warm and serves multiple purposes. 

For one, it makes a fabulous pillow--yes, Spencer's midsection is the perfect place for Brendon to rest his head during a movie marathon or songwriting session or afternoon catnap. For another, Brendon likes that he has a little something extra to grab onto during his and Spencer's amorous activities. In the heat of the moment, he'll press his fingers into Spencer's hips, steadying himself as he continues to leave a trail of wet kisses down Spencer's neck, chest, and abdomen. When he finally reaches the spot where his hands previously were, he'll bite down on the exposed flesh, eliciting an erotic groan from the back of Spencer's throat. So yeah, the fact that Spencer doesn't favor that particular part of his body is completely and utterly incomprehensible to Brendon. 

Spencer is sometimes a restless sleeper and as a result, the duvet has been pushed far enough down overnight that Brendon has a clear view of the younger boy's stomach, peeking out from beneath the thin cotton sleep shirt that Spencer has worn to bed for the past two and a half years. Brendon is so entirely focused on his boyfriend's stomach that it takes him a moment to realize his is emitting a steady rumbling. 

As much as he hates to separate himself from Spencer, he knows it has to be done eventually. He figures his dog has a growling stomach that mimics his own and also, coffee sounds pretty damn fantastic right about now. With tremendous caution, Brendon untangles his legs from those of his sleeping boyfriend and tosses them over the side of the mattress, wincing when the bed frame creaks very audibly. Experience has taught Brendon that Spencer holds the title of "World's Heaviest Sleeper", but he still likes to be careful. Mentally cursing noisy furniture, Brendon tiptoes hurriedly down the stairs, coffee on the brain. 

Before he's even taken the first step on the chilled kitchen tiles, an overly enthusiastic Bogart is nudging Brendon's ankles, whimpering for food from the bag that Brendon takes from the cupboard over the stove and delivers to his bowl. By the time the Keurig is at work (Brendon can't help but feel strange fixing the coffee that Spencer typically brews), Bogart is pawing at the door yearningly. Brendon gladly obliges, a smile playing out on his full lips as he spectates his dog trot out the open door before scoping out the yard for the best place to, ya know. 

After Bogart returns from his morning routine, Brendon continues with his own, opting for a ceramic mug with a blue glaze and filling it to the brim with coffee. It is when Brendon is preparing his first sip, blowing gently on the scalding liquid so as not to burn himself, that he feels two strong arms snake around his waist. Sleep-warmed Spencer presses a soft kiss to his lover's lips before Brendon can manage the first "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty". He tastes like toothpaste and smells of warm sheets and yesterday's cologne. 

Brendon leans into Spencer's taller frame, initiating sleepy caresses and forehead touching, things he never tires of and suspects he never will. He thinks back to the lake house and the first kiss he and Spencer shared, all asynchronous movements and awkward entangled appendages atop that dilapidated dock. Spencer's (for the most part) outgrown his ungainly ways and Brendon's juvenile nerves are long gone, but the underlying feeling of comfort and warm happiness is the same now as it was then. Despite Spencer's former lack of muscle mass, his arms had felt strong when he'd held Brendon that night. Secure and steadfast, even when the two of them had feared that gravity would cause them to tumble off the severely slanted side of the jetty and plunge into the cold, dark water below.

Strong, Brendon thinks, is the perfect word to describe his and Spencer's relationship. The two of them have been through a lot together, ups and downs and unexpected twists. In the past there have been times when one threatened to walk out on the other. All this rough weather managed to mangle their relationship until it was nearly unrecognizable for a while. But the wreckage has been rectified and where there once was an unconvincing skeleton of a structure, there is now an impressive foundation, capable of holding up against impending bad weather, because both of them know there will be more. But for now the skies are clear and blue, not a single cloud present to dim the potential of the aureate sun. 

Brendon's mother told him once that a home required more than a reliable framework to function properly. She'd said it also needs personality, dialogue to reverberate off the walls and travel into the next room. It needs dedication, caretakers who are willing to exert the effort to repair the occasional leak or loose floorboard, even if it may be easier to just ignore the flaw until it's become too serious to dismiss. Lastly, a home needs love. Without it, the task of having to care for a house that might very well be crumbling around you will undoubtedly prove to be too demanding, too strenuous. During the times when the house is doing well without much assistance, love will be the icing on the cake, the melody that wafts through the room and makes the houseguests want to dance. Now, enveloped in Spencer's familiar embrace, Brendon knows the only home he'll ever need is standing right in front of him.


End file.
